


I Want To Hear You Say It

by Neliore



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASoIaF Kink Meme, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bottom!Jon, Dirty Talk, Figging, Light BDSM, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Punishment, Rimming, Spanking, Submissive!Jon, Verbal Humiliation, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:57:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1604324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neliore/pseuds/Neliore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon Snow is a Lord Commander, but inside his bedchamber he is Satin's bitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want To Hear You Say It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This is written for the most fantastic following prompt on ASIOAF Kinkmeme that I can't believe no one has filled yet:  
> BDSM with submissive bottom!Jon. Jon Snow is Lord Commander, but inside his bedchamber he is just Satin's pet. I would love some bondage and whipping, and I'm open to pretty much any other kinks as well.
> 
> I am sorry, but I did not include bondage - I did few other things, and was concerned it would turn into a really long multi-chaptered fic. As this prompt is so bloody brilliant, I am sure I will do a multiple fill all by myself (I know, I am mean), and I promise to tie Jon up some other time ;)

Jon takes a deep breath to compose himself, to still his rapidly beating heart, before opening the door of Lord Commander's chamber-- _his_ chamber.

His young and beautiful steward is sitting in _his_ chair, drinking wine from _his_ cup, completely comfortable, so much so he doesn't even bother to stand up when Jon enters. He raises an eyebrow looking at him. The look is accusing, but also quite amused, his lips parted in a wide beautiful smile that Jon never knows if it brings reward or punishment--most probably both.

Jon is standing in front of him, his head bowed. The tone of Satin's voice is soft and quiet. ''You are late.''

''I apologize... Satin... The meeting with King Stannis went on for longer than I expected.'' Jon is still looking down, at his own feet, but his gaze starts moving down the floor, and comes to rest on Satin's boots. Jon bites on his lips.

''Hmm, yes, King Stannis.'' Satin taps his finger on the desk. ''It must be something _horribly_ important you had to discuss, or else you wouldn't keep me waiting, would you?''

Jon is nodding.''Of course not, I'd never keep you waiting for no reason.'' He stutters a bit, as if to say something else, but changes his mind, braving a short look up to Satin's face, then quickly lowers his gaze and, after all, continues, his cheeks turning red, ''I am aware that being late is not acceptable and I am ready to bear whatever punishment you see fit.''

Satin orders, "Look at me.''

And Jon does. He knows that the moment he starts blushing is the moment his loving tormentor would command him to lift his eyes. Satin likes seeing him embarrassed, and ever since he first discovered how easily Jon blushes he just couldn't get enough of it. So Jon looks ahead, trying so hard not to let his eyes stray or, gods forbid, shut. He feels his cheeks burning, and he has already, more than a thousand times, decided that _this_ must be the worst punishment ever inflicted on him. Nothing compares to it. He can endure the pain without even a flinch, but _this_ is a torment of a completely different kind.

Satin is half-smiling, his gaze traveling over Jon. ''Yes, you will absolutely _have to_ be punished. For you have been a very wicked Lord Commander.''

Hearing those two words-- _Lord Commander_ , the words he hears probably thousand times a day--the way Satin says them now, promising a punishment, as Jon is standing before him blushing and apprehensive, is simply too much. He shuts his eyes with embarrassment. A mistake, he knows. And he knows Satin noticed it. The boy stands up and approaches.

Despite forcing himself to look up, Jon's eyes seem to have a mind of their own. He bows his head again, eyes kept down to the floor. Satin's hand comes under his chin and nudges softly, lifting his head up, and Jon has to look at those big doe eyes, so utterly embarrassed, as his pretty young steward repeats, emphasizing every word, ''A _very_ _wicked Lord Commander_.'' Oh, how he delights in torturing Jon thus.

Jon has been called many things, and he thought once, what now seems a lifetime ago, that _bastard_ was the worst thing he could be called. It filled him with both rage and shame. But that was before he and Satin started playing these games. Now, whenever he would retreat to his chamber for the night, _Lord Commander_ \--the most honourable title, and one that makes him proud to hear it uttered so many times during a day--and the context in which Satin would use it, makes him want to disappear, die with embarrassment.

Satin knows that. He smiles a cruel little smile, ''I want to hear you say it.''

Jon is silent, but his eyes are pleading. Satin, however, is adamant. '' _Say it_... And ask for your punishment.''

Jon is sure his face must be as red as ever as he mumbles quietly, ''I have been a very wicked Lord Commander. Please, punish me.''

If Satin was more cruel he would have made him repeat, as it really was hardly audible at all, but he never pushes too far and for that Jon is more than grateful. He nods and traces the line of Jon's jaw with his fingers, bringing them up to his lips. Jon opens them readily, but Satin pulls his fingers back and commands, ''Strip.''

Jon swallows, but he is only too happy to obey. He's been waiting for this all day.

Throughout his day, the fierce and harsh Lord Commander of the Night's Watch walks around Castle Black, barking out orders, he scolds and commands, he argues with king Stannis, never taking a step back, such powerful, dominating presence--he is a force to be reckoned with. But once inside his chambers, the beautiful slender boy with the name of a whore is truly the one in charge. And those are the moments Jon loves the most, the high point of his day. Then he doesn't have to burden his mind with strategies and tactics, desperately trying to find a solution for the situation with the Wildlings that is now spinning out of control, he doesn't have to carefully negotiate with a proud and stern man who calls himself a king, trying at the same time to keep him satisfied but not give in to his unreasonable demands. No, these are the moments he just relaxes, he switches off completely and obeys, he does whatever it is that pretty steward of his commands him to.

The first time it happened, when he walked into his chamber after a particularly hard day only to find Satin sitting at his desk, _Lord Commander's_ desk, staring at him with determination, if he was surprised when Satin, out of the blue, ordered him to strip, he was _shocked_ to see himself doing just that, without any objection. And after that night, every evening it was the same sight that greeted him once he'd retire to his chamber. Always Satin, sitting at his desk, so shamelessly beautiful as he commands, ''Strip.''

Once Jon is fully naked, Satin smirks to see he's already hard, and before the torment continues he does give his Lord Commander a most loving and gentle smile.

''Kneel.''

Jon goes down to his knees.

''Undo my breeches.''

Jon does as he's ordered, and more, for he needn't really be told to start sucking Satin's cock, he knows it's expected. Satin is only half-hard, but that's about to change soon, as Jon takes him in his mouth and starts pulling and sucking, lapping and licking. He loves sucking his steward, he loves feeling his sweet smell, tasting him, knowing he can bring so much pleasure with his mouth and tongue, so happy to please, and to serve well.

The first time he did it, he knew nothing. But Satin was a patient teacher. He told him then, ''I'd like to fuck not only your mouth, but your throat too. I know it is not easy to take a full length down your throat, and I don't expect you to succeed just yet, in your first attempt, but I want you to give me your best try.'' And Jon did. He gagged and nearly choked that first time, but he succeeded, and was getting better every time he'd suck Satin's cock. He is proud to hear the praise he gets. He _lives_ for _Goods, Very goods, Good boys,_ and even _Good Lord Commanders_ , despite how much it makes him blush. And that first time, when he also swallowed Satin's seed without even being told to do so, Satin was delighted and rewarded him by not only sucking him and tonguing his asshole, but by allowing him to spend as soon as he himself wanted to. Usually, that's not the practice, Jon has to wait, to ask, and to beg first before being allowed a release. It meant he did more than well that first time, and Satin has always been as generous with rewards as he was with punishments.

So Jon never stopped trying his best to please him. Now too, he sucks so hard, bobbing his head up and down, and Satin is fully erect now, and it feels so good to be so good for him. Jon's hand reaches for his own cock and starts stroking, but he immediately feels the soft leather of Satin's boot pressed gently but still quite threateningly against his balls. Satin goes _tsk-tsk_ and Jon lets go. Yes, Satin loves making his Lord Commander wait until it hurts.

''You like sucking my cock, Lord Commander, don't you?''

Jon nods.

''What do you think King Stannis would say if he knew how much the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch likes his steward's cock down his throat?''

Jon is blushing even more, in silence, but he moves his head further down and takes Satin's balls in his mouth. His cock is so hard, he wishes he could touch himself, but he knows it will be a while before he's allowed to do that. He tries his best to please Satin so much, to be a good cock-sucking Lord Commander, hoping Satin would be lenient tonight and maybe allow his release sooner than usual. But it's a silly hope, as Jon knows this is a punishment, and punishment is supposed to hurt. And hurt it will. Satin pulls his cock out of Jon's mouth and orders, ''On all fours. Arch your back, ass high in the air.''

Jon obeys, feeling his cock twitch even more. Gods, what these commands from his steward do to him!

''I thought just to spank you at first, but you really were such naughty Lord Commander. Not only were you late, but you looked down when ordered not to, and you touched your cock without my permission. I cannot tolerate such lack of discipline. What do you think I should do, _Lord Commander_?'' Satin whispers the last two words and Jon is blushing again.

He says what he knows he should: ''Whip me.''

But he feels soft hands, touching his asshole, quite gently. He lets himself hope for a brief moment, but then he feels something being pushed inside, a slight burning sensation as he is being intruded and when the burning increases even though it's fitted nicely in, he knows this is far from over. _Oh, Satin, you ARE cruel._

The first time Satin introduced his asshole to the sensation of freshly peeled ginger root, he could hardly restrain his tears--it burned like hell and it made him sweat with arousal and humiliation, but the feeling only intensified if he moved or clenched the muscles of his ass. It was the worst torture he was ever made to endure. He got used to it in time, some, but it still put him on fire.

He whimpers a bit, and slightly wails, but the little plug is there and he knows it won't be taken out no matter how hard he pleads, so apart from few involuntary sobs Jon is quiet. He will take his punishment with pride, and hopefully some dignity.

Satin walks around him, and brings a hand towards Jon's face. He is holding a belt--Jon's belt, nicely decorated fine quality leather, a garment worthy of a Lord Commander. And Jon knows he will remember this punishment every time he wears that belt ( _every bloody day)_. Satin knows it too, that's exactly why he's doing it.

''Only the finest leather for Lord Commander.'' The wicked little thing smiles. ''Kiss it.''

Jon can feel the smell of leather, as the belt is held to his mouth, and he gently presses his lips to the cold and smooth surface, so soft, so sleek. He looks up to Satin's eyes as he's kissing the belt and Satin smiles approvingly, and caresses his hair tenderly, praising, ''Good. Very good.''

Jon's heart swells up to hear he's been good. There's not a thing in this world more rewarding than to be praised for enduring a particularly tormenting experience of pain or humiliation. He loves being good, and needs to be told so. Satin knows it, and cares about him enough to indulge this Jon's need for approval, so he praises him often, every time Jon deserves it.

Then Satin walks behind him and Jon is trying to stay relaxed, despite the anticipation, because the burning in his asshole only intensifies if he's clenching his buttcheeks, but it is so hard to stay relaxed, so he whimpers softly, as he waits for the blow.

He doesn't need to wait long. It comes cutting the air with sharp swishing sound and then it cracks loudly as the leather hits his skin. He gasps, trying not to clench. It hurts, but it is good, he likes the pain. The second blow comes, hitting him lower, and Jon stays put. Then the third one, and the fourth and the fifth and then he stops counting. The number is not important, he can take any number of strokes, the pain is not something Jon hides from. In fact, it cleanses him, it gives him something to focus on other than all the daily responsibilities and hardships that weigh down heavily on him. He enjoys this, and no doubt he'd enjoy it even more if it wasn't for that damned thing up his ass that burns even more than the belt does. After every _SWOOSH!_ and every _SNAP!_ the belt makes, there is a grunt and then a whimper and soon a sob escaping Jon's mouth, because despite telling himself not to clench, he still does, and it burns and he is sweating now with distress. Soon he starts wailing with frustration and there are tears coming down his face.

After delivering what must have been more than dozen blows, Satin makes a break. He comes to Jon's face, gets down on one knee and touches his cheeks gently, wiping the tears. ''If I take the root out now, do you promise you'll be a good Lord Commander and not disobey me again tonight?''

''Yes, please. Please.'' Jon sobs.

Satin nods with sympathy and kisses Jon's eyes, first one and then the other, the kiss so loving, so comforting. Then he goes back and Jon can hardly suppress his joy as he feels the ginger root coming out. Now he can relax and enjoy his punishment to the end. It will still burn for a while, but less and less and soon it will stop altogether.

Satin takes a step back and again there is a _SWOOSH!_ as the belt flies through the air and a _CRACK!_ as it lands on Jon's already red ass, and it burns and stings, but it is good, because now he can clench all he wants, and this pain is nice and sharp, hard and honest, so Jon moans as the blows keep coming down, setting his ass on fire.

Jon remembers how after the first time he submitted like this to Satin, he was as much confused by his reactions as he was by Satin actually _daring_ to initiate it. It was a very bold thing to do, _a hell of a risk_ , ordering your Lord Commander to strip and then whip him and do all those other humiliating and dirty and beautiful things to him. He must have been madly brave to attempt that, and yet he did, without ever faltering. Jon asked him afterwards how did he know he'd obey and not kill him on the spot, and Satin only smiled. ''I have been watching you. When you were hurt, and later during sword practice. You embrace pain as if it's a comfort, a lover even. And you take pride in how much you can take.''

And it was true. Jon loved losing himself in sparring duels, he never minded the blows, the cuts and bruises, he'd cut himself off from the daily worries hacking at the air with his sword, taking and giving hard blows. He had always done it passionately like that, and that must be why he was such a good swordsman, even better than Robb. Only, this was better than being hit during sword practice, because not only that he was being thrashed by the most beautiful boy he'd ever seen, but all of his heart's carnal desires, the darkest, most obscene ones were being roused and then satisfied.

Satin is beating him hard now, angry blows coming down fast and furious, each new one adding a kindling to the fire, biting and burning mercilessly. Jon is grunting silently, and he only cries out slightly when the belt hits his thighs, but it's more from surprise than the pain. Then Satin stops, making another break, his hand caresses Jon's ass tenderly, rubs and squeezes the molested flesh. Jon winces but smiles and moans with pleasure at the same time.

Satin praises, ''Good... You're taking your punishment very well, Lord Commander, I am proud of you.''

Jon is blushing but he moans with even greater pleasure to hear that. 

''I want you to count the last ten blows, and thank me for each one of them,'' Satin says.

And he steps back again, his hand in the air. Again it is _SWOOSH!_ and then _CRACK!_ , a very mean and angry one, as Satin is now giving his all, to make this end of a punishment really special.

Jon gasps, ''One. Thank you.''

Then another blow, so forceful, Jon thinks it must have cut him, but he only grunts, ''Two. Thank you.''

The third blow is so hard it is now Satin who almost cries out with the effort, the leather lapping brutally over Jon's ass.

''Three. Thank you.''

Then the fourth and the fifth blows come down and he counts them and thanks Satin, but with the sixth one, he stutters, it hurts and he needs some time to breathe before he mutters, ''Six.... Thank you.''

Satin gives him another mean lash and Jon drops from his hands to his elbows, his head touching the floor, he concentrates for a moment, then says, ''Seven. Thank you.''

The eighth one finds his upper thighs and he hisses in one short breath, ''Eighthankyou.''

The ninth cruelly lands on the exact same spot and he winces. ''Aaaah, nine...'' Then he swallows and adds, ''Thank you.''

When Satin says, ''Spread,'' Jon knows the last blow will be the worst of all, right across the middle, punishing his asshole. Yet he obeys, with his head to the floor, hands reaching back, spreading the bruised flesh of his butt cheeks.

But what Satin does surprises him. It's not the belt that touches him there, but Satin's lips as he gently presses them against Jon's asshole. He kisses and sucks lightly, warm tongue pushing inside and then up and down again, over the sensitive folds of skin. Jon is trembling with pleasure. 

''You taste like ginger now,'' Satin chuckles, but then he asks more seriously, ''Haven't you forgotten something?''

Jon smiles. ''Ten. Thank you.''

Satin pats his hair, gives him a _''Good boy''_ and then pulls him by the hair, guiding him towards the bed. Jon leans against it, his upper body resting on the bed, while he's still kneeling on the hard stone floor.

Satin says, ''You may touch yourself now, but only a little.''

Jon takes his cock and rubs it and it's so good he's closing his eyes again, resting his head on the bed. Satin stands above him and touches his back, gently caressing him with his fingers, then he moves down and pinches his butt lightly, then squeezes and grabs a handful. Jon moans, he is pulling at his skin and it feels good as Satin's hands are kneading his thrashed cheeks and spreading them apart. Then he feels the cold dripping over his asshole and Satin's finger slides inside, oiling him up.

''Hands on the bed, Jon,'' he commands.

And Jon lets go of his throbbing cock, ever so obedient Lord Commander. He feels the tip of Satin's cock pressing and pushing inside. His flesh opens for this sweet assault, he's being stretched, pulled around his steward's erection as Satin is thrusting slowly inside till he's all the way in. ''Ask me to fuck you, Lord Commander.''

Jon inhales and whispers, ''Please, fuck me.''

Satin starts pushing, back and forth, filling Jon's ass with his cock, pressing him hard against the bed.

Jon surrenders to the sweet sensation of being stretched open, being invaded like this. He winces slightly every time Satin's hips snap against him as he is so bruised from the belting, but the pain only intensifies the pleasure he's feeling as he's being fucked, his crotch rubbing against the edge of the bed. Satin's hands find Jon's hair and he yanks his head roughly up. ''You like being fucked, Lord Commander?''

''Yess.''

''You may be as fierce as that wolf of yours, but you _do_ like me taking you like a bitch, don't you?''

Jon blushes, but moans his _yes_ es, to every dirty and lascivious and wrong and humiliating question Satin asks. And he asks so many of them as he fucks him harder and harder.

''You like my cock ripping you apart?''

''Yes.''

''You like being fucked like a bitch in heat?''

''Yes.''

''You'd let me fuck you in front of Stannis and all his men and all the brothers of the Night's Watch and all the Wildlings if I commanded so?''

''Gods, yes.''

''You'd let everyone see how Lord Commander likes to be fucked like a bitch by his steward?''

''Yes.''

''You'd let me fuck your mouth in front of everyone too? Show them what an amazing cock-sucker their Lord Commander is?''

''Yes, yes.''

''You would beg me to fuck you, too, in front of everyone? Show Stannis and the entire Night's Watch and everyone how hungry you are for my cock?''

''Aah, yes.''

''Show me. Show me how you'd beg.''

''Please. Yes.''

''Not good enough, if you don't beg I will stop.'' And he does slow down. 

Jon begs: ''Please, Satin, please, fuck me.''

Satin is still slowing down, so Jon gives his best. He wails, ''Please, please, fuck me, please, Satin, fuck me like a bitch, fuck me hard, please fuck my mouth and my ass, please, fuck me.''

However, Satin stops altogether. ''If you like to be fucked so much, why don't you fuck yourself on my cock? Let me see you work for your pleasure.''

Jon moves, back and forth, impaling himself onto Satin's length as his cruel pretty steward stays completely still. He rocks and pushes, but Satin is not satisfied. ''Harder, Jon, I know you wish to be fucked harder.''

Jon speeds up, he's rocking back and forth, slamming his ass against Satin's hips. He tries so hard, but Satin pulls out. ''No. Start again, but don't slack. I want you properly and thoroughly fucked. Is that clear, Lord Commander?''

Jon feels his frustration grow, but says, his tone firm and determined, ''Yes'' and he shifts backwards. He feels Satin's cock and he presses against its head, pushing. It doesn't go so easily when Satin is not pushing himself, so he reaches back with one hand to keep the cock in place as he glides onto him slowly. Once the tip is in, he pushes forcefully back and then quickly retreats. He repeats this motion as hard as he can, many times, he's fucking himself on Satin's cock, he feels each inch spreading him rudely, and he rocks and rocks and rocks, back and forth, back and forth, and he knows he's doing well, as Satin soon grabs his hips and starts thrusting himself. Again, he praises, ''Good, very good. You fuck really well, Lord Commander.''

Satin speeds up, and Jon is so happy to hear him say, ''You may touch yourself now, Lord Commander, you have earned it by impaling your sweet ass on my cock so well.''

Jon starts stroking his cock again as Satin is pounding into him, making him moan and whimper.

Again, a question, ''You like rubbing yourself like a dirty boy while being stretched around my cock?''

''Yes.''

''Tell me. I want to hear you say it.''

Jon moans, ''Yes, I like to rub myself... like a dirty boy... while being filled with your cock.''

Satin says he's good and he beams at the praise, his body now close to his release, as Satin is fucking him in sharp brutal thrusts and his own hand is squeezing his cock. ''You may be a Lord Commander, but you still like to be fucked like a bitch.''

''Yessss.''

''Say it. I want to hear it.'' The urgency in Satin's tone tells him he is also quite close. 

Jon repeats, ''I may be a Lord Commander... but I like to be fucked like a bitch.''

Satin is moaning, so short of breath. ''Whose bitch, Lord Commander?''

''Yours,'' Jon pants.

But Satin wants the whole thing. ''Say it, say it nicely, I want to hear it all.''

Jon keens and whimpers, ''I may be a Lord Commander, aaaah, but.... I like, I... I _AM_ , I am your bitch, aaa.... to be fucked.'' Then he just moans incoherently as his release is hitting and breaking him, as he twitches and clenches, shuddering around Satin's cock.

Satin speeds up even more and he also starts keening, but he quickly pulls out, yanking Jon by the hair to turn him around and pushes his entire length down his throat, gasping and moaning. Jon sucks and swallows everything to the last drop. It makes him smile to see how much it tastes like ginger.

Then Satin pulls him up, whispering well deserved _Goods, Very goods, Good boys,_ and _Good Lord Commanders_. Jon kisses him full on the lips, as they stumble down to the bed.

They nuzzle and kiss and Satin chuckles. ''I love ginger, so much.''

Jon smiles. ''I hate it.''

''Oh, don't be such a baby... Lord Commander.'' But this time he says it gently, with love, and Jon does not blush to hear it. He just smiles more.


End file.
